Roar
by Dr. Kaitie Holmes
Summary: Castiel and Dean are set to get married, but something has taken Castiel. Dean makes it his life's mission to seek out whatever took his fiancé-no matter the cost. Human!Cas, Destiel. Rated M for future activities.
1. The Empty House

AN: Happy birthday, Lovelyfangirls! I hope you like it. :3

Dean woke in the middle of the night, confused. For some reason, something felt...off. Turning, he found Castiel nestled comfortably on his pillow. With a smile, Dean scooted closer, draping an arm over his fiance's sleeping form. I can't believe the wedding is next week, he thought wonderingly. Sometimes it felt as though he had dreamed or hallucinated the entire relationship. Why this man had chosen him out of everyone in the world-

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Dean chuckled lightly, kissing Cas on the shoulder. "Baby, I'm not that cheap."

"Oh, really?" The other man turned to Dean, snuggling close. "I bed you all the time without paying."

Snorting, Dean retorted, "You're digging yourself into debt. And I charge interest!"

They giggled together before kissing. Dean rolled his lover onto his back, nestling between Cas' legs. His fiance arched up beneath him, ready for attention. Dean happily obliged, kissing down the other's neck and bare chest. They were both already hard, ready for sex. Dean was reaching for the bottle of lube on the nightstand when he stilled.

"What?" Castiel demanded breathlessly.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

They both froze for an endless moment, ears straining to pick up any foreign noise. For the longest time, nothing. Then...creak.

In a flash, Dean was on his feet, dressed in pyjama bottoms, and armed with the gun they hid under the bed. Cas quickly pulled on his own PJ bottoms.

"Stay here," Dean ordered. His lover nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'll be right back. Call the police, okay?"

Once he was on the phone, Dean switched the safety on his gun off and quietly padded down the hall. That creak could have come only from one place in the house-the bottom step. Nowhere else had that distinctive sound.

Gun pointed at the floor, he moved stealthily to the head of the stairs and peered into the darkness. He couldn't make anything out, so he stepped down a step. Then another. It took a full minute to reach the middle step. Nothing stirred in that time. A set of headlights washed over the room as a car passed on the street.

No one was in the entry hall. Dean hurried down the rest of the case, skipping the last one. He went through every room downstairs, flipping on lights as he went.

He found nothing out of place. The front door was even locked.

Frowning, he turned the safety on and slipped the gun into the back of his pyjama pants. Their house was fairly new, and didn't make noises at night. Something had to have made that stair creak, but there was no one in the house. He tried to shrug it off, but a feeling of unease clung to him like smoke. Loping back upstairs, he made his way back to Cas.

"False alarm," he announced, pushing the door open.

Cas wasn't on the bed. Worried, he checked in their bathroom. Nothing.

He wasn't in the guest room or bath.

"CAS!" he shouted. No answer.

He was still frantically searching when the police showed up.


	2. The Psychic

"I told you, he was just _gone_!"

The cop jotted something in his notes. "And there was no one in the house?" he confirmed.

"Yes!" Dean roared. "Now, are you going to find him or not?!"

"Sir, you need to calm down. You can't report an adult as missing until they've been gone for twenty-four hours. We have no evidence of foul play here. We'll file a report, then you can list him as missing when the limit is up. I'm sorry we can't do more."

"You're frigging useless!" Dean snarled. He ignored the police until they left.

"I'll find him myself," he vowed. "No matter how long it takes."

* * *

Two Years Later

Dean was at the end of his rope. For two years he had searched, and had found nothing of his fiance. Now, he was resorting to the use of a psychic.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sam asked, concerned. He was sitting at the kitchen table with his brother, waiting for the clairvoyant to show up.

Scrubbing a hand across his jaw, Dean nodded. "I just...I have to know, Sam. I have to know what happened to him."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "But...are you sure you've tried everything?"

"Everything I can think of. There wasn't much to do, Sam. I've listened to the emergency recording and followed the investigation. I checked everywhere I could think of. I tried tracking his phone. Nothing, Sam."

"Alright."

They sat in silence for a long while. Sam used the time to observe his older brother. He looked older than he had before, scruffy around the jaw, dark circles under the eyes. He was worried about him-and his sanity.

_Ding-dong._

Dean shot to his feet and hurried to the front door. A pretty, middle-aged black woman stood on the stoop, dressed in a satiny purple dress. She hadn't yet entered the house, but the look on her face spoke levels of dread. This didn't bode well.

"Come in," Dean invited. The psychic drew herself to her full height and stepped over the threshold.

"This is a dark place," she muttered. "Something bad happened here."

The brothers followed the woman through the hall and up the stairs. She seemed to know exactly where to go; she stopped only when they reached the door to Dean's room.

"Oh, my," she breathed. Muttering a swift prayer in a foreign language, she pushed the door open. She didn't enter, just stood there staring. "I think we better go downstairs, Dean Winchester. We have many things to discuss."

The brothers followed behind the woman, confused. She settled into a chair in the dining room and waited for the boys to sit on the sofa.

"What I'm about to say to you is going to sound crazy," she warned, "but every word is the truth."

Dean leaned forward eagerly and clasped his hands between his knees.

"What took your fiance...it wasn't of this world."

Sam let out a snort and opened his mouth, but his brother quickly silenced him.

"It was a demon. There is a world on the fringe of ours. Most people aren't aware of it, but there are some-very few- who know. These people are usually hunters. You, Dean Winchester, need to seek these people out and convince them to help you."

"Help?" Dean repeated, confused. "With wha-"

"Don't play dumb with me," she said sassily. "You need help with training. There is no way you can get your boy back right now."

"So let me get this straight," Sam interrupted, leaning forward. "Dean needs to find a bunch of eccentrics who 'fight demons' so they can teach him how to kick demon ass. Did I get that right?"

The psychic leveled a penetrating glare at the younger Winchester. "You are skeptic now, Sam, but you will believe. And you better start believing soon, because your brother is going to need all the help he can get."

Before she left, the psychic wrote out an address for the boys. She said that hunters could usually be found here, trading information.

"How do we get them to trust us?" Dean asked, following her to the door.

"Tell them the truth," she advised, "and drop my name."

"Which is…?"

She grinned, a little wickedly. "Just say Mama Tia sent you. You'll know the good hunters by their reaction."

With that, she swept out of the house.


	3. The Hunters

"Turn right here."

"Are you sure? I think it's a left."

"Dean, just turn right."

"Why?"

"Because the map says to turn RIGHT!" Sam exclaimed in frustration. "Don't make me navigator if you won't listen to me!"

Chuckling, Dean turned his Impala to the right, cruising past rows of abandoned, shabby warehouses. He was nervous, almost as nervous as the night he had asked Castiel to marry him-

No. Mustn't think about that.

They pulled into an overgrown lot, bouncing over patches of cracked asphalt. A decrepit warehouse loomed before them, looming over them and blocking the setting sun. In the shadow of the menacing grey building, it was cold. The brothers shivered, more from fear than actual cold.

Keeping close together, Sam and Dean carefully crossed the lt and came to a crooked set of doors. Inside, they spotted a glimmer of light; someone was inside.

To reassure himself, Dean touched the gun tucked into the back of his jeans, and then they quietly stepped into the building.

The door opened into a narrow hall, crowded on both sides by boxes and metal pipes. Dean led the way, stealthily creeping to the red door at the end. Light spilled from the crack under it, betraying the location of those inside. As they approached, murmuring could be heard. Jittery, Dean reached a hand out and grabbed hold of the handle. Making eye contact with his brother, he waited. Sam nodded, and Dean pushed the door open.

Immediately, all eyes turned to the pair. Then thirty guns were pointed their direction. The Winchesters held their hands up and stared. The room was small, almost cozy, with a round table dominating the centre. Thirty or so people-mostly men, but several women-were present. And every single one of them was armed to the teeth.

"Don't shoot," Sam tried. "We come in peace."

"Splash 'em," a blonde woman ordered. The brothers stared at each other, confused, until a young boy stepped forward. He couldn't be older than nine. Hefting a modified Nerf gun to his shoulder, he aimed and pulled the trigger. A strong stream of water gushed forth, dousing the boys. Sam coughed, and let out a yelp as he was squirted in the face.

"He's a demon!" someone shouted.

"Naw, I just got his eye," the boy said, grinning. He had a thick, drawling Southern accent. "They're people."

"Yeah, last time I checked," Dean muttered. The blonde woman stood and approached, holstering her weapon. She was dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket, her hair tied up in a ponytail. Dean could only describe her as a badass soccer mom.

"Y'all cops?"

She must be the boy's mother, Dean thought. He shook his head. "I'm just a mechanic, and Sammy's…well, he's a college student."

"Oh really?" she said, stepping closer. Dean was getting nervous. "What are you studying, Sammy?"

"It's Sam," he corrected with a nervous chuckle. "And I'm studying law."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "A lawyer? Well, hotshot, what're you doing in my warehouse?"

"We need your-or someone's-help."

"My help?" she said skeptically. "With what?"

"I need to learn how to fight demons," Dean said quietly.

"Oh yeah? What for?"

"My fiance was taken by one."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Dean noted with relief that most had lowered their guns.

"You're not the only one who's lost family," a man said, standing. "What makes you think we will help?"

"Mama Tia said-" Sam started. An uproar halted his words.

"The she-devil," someone hissed. A few quickly crossed their chests or muttered a prayer. Others produced weapons from somewhere, ready to take down whatever evil they thought was coming. The Winchesters glanced at each other, confused.

"How did she find you?"

"What?"

"Why was she interested in you?" the blonde snarled.

"S-she wasn't. I found her name in the classifieds."

An older man in a baseball cap stepped away from the crowd and stood by the woman.

"I'll help you," he said. "But ya gotta listen to every word that comes out of my mouth, y'hear?"

Dean nodded gratefully, and they followed the man outside.


	4. Psychevors

Dean and Sam's training stretched on for a year and a half. Every day was grueling, and they were allowed little sleep. They were trying to cram a lifetime of learning into the smallest time possible, and it was running them ragged. Anytime Dean thought about complaining, he thought of Cas. He was somewhere, waiting to be rescued , and Dean had to be ready.

He couldn't even think of the other possibilities.

He couldn't think that Castiel was dead.

He had to be alive.

He had to.

"Tell me what you know," Dean ordered, glaring at the demon in their trap. It was pathetic and weak, currently inhabiting the body of a lanky man, but it was better than nothing.

"About what?" it sneered. "Your dead Mommy and Daddy? Want me to tell you about how they're burning in hell?"

Dean nodded at Sam, who tossed holy water onto the demon. It howled in pain, retreating to the far side of the circle.

"Four years ago. A powerful demon took a human man. What do you know?"

The demon stared at them, calculating. It knew they wanted information, and it knew they could kill it. "If I tell you what I know, you let me go."

"Alright, deal," Dean agreed. "If your information is correct, we'll let you live."

It hissed quietly, then resigned itself to talking. "I heard that a bunch of Psychevors took a guy."

"Psyche-what?" Dean demanded.

"Psych is a Greek root word," Sam explained, "and so is vor. It roughly translates to 'greedy soul eaters'."

Dean paled. "What did they do to him?"

"What do you think they did?" it snapped. Sam raised his pitcher of water; the demon flinched. "They usually keep their food supply until it dies. A human with a strong, pure soul can last for...decades, if he's lucky."

"Tell me where they are."

"I don't know!" the demon wailed. "No one except their kind knows where the hive is."

"They're hive animals?" Sam asked. It nodded.

Dean interrupted, "I don't care, just tell me how to kill them."

"The queen controls the hive. Get the queen, get the colony."

They killed the demon. They couldn't risk it warning the Psychevors.

Together, they returned home and hit the books. They had to figure out how to lure one out of hiding, then follow it back to the hive.

Then they had to kill the queen.

"Look," Sam said, passing an old book across the table. "I found them."

Taking the tome, Dean examined the picture. It was humanoid, but it had no eyes or full nose. The skin where the eyes would be was smooth, stretched taut across the face. There were two slits where the nose should be, and a narrow hole for a mouth. A small diagram showed a proboscis emerging from the mouth.

_"The mouth piece emerges from the mouth slit when the Psychevor senses food," _Dean read aloud. _"The end is hollow and sharp, made especially for puncturing the aura and siphoning spiritual energy. Since a human spirit is resilient, a victim can survive for years before succumbing to death." _

Instead of giving him hope, that passage pissed him off. How dare these demons hurt his Cas? How dare they use him for food? When he found this hive, he was going to inflict as much pain as possible.

"Does it say how to find them?" Sam asked, shaking his brother from his thoughts.

"Um," Dean stalled, scanning the page. "It says drone demons are usually sent out to scout for new vics...they hunt close to home...and they like lots of trees and flowers. Like bugs."

The younger Winchester thought for a moment before standing to retrieve a map of the area. Spreading it out on the table, the brothers examined it before Sam pointed to William's Park. "There. Flowers, trees, people passing by..."

"Are you sure?"

"It's the best lead we have."

"Okay." Dean picked up the book and scanned the last few pages on the demons in question. _Psychevors have few weaknesses, but they are terrified of fire and flee at the mere sight..._

Dean didn't need to know anymore. He made sure to stash plenty of matches, Moltav cocktails, and bug spray in his bag before they headed to their stake-out.


	5. Into the Hive

Sam and Dean sat in the Impala, pretending to be normal people. The younger Winchester had a book out; the other was people-watching. He was impatient. The book had said they liked to go out at dusk. They had another hour or so to wait. He would have liked to be actively searching, but there were too many civilians wandering the park. It wouldn't do to be arrested before he could find Castiel. His fiance was close; he could feel it in his bones.

"Dean."

"What?"

"Stop that." Sam nodded at his brother's fingers. They were impatiently tapping the steering wheel.

"Sorry," he muttered. He watched a pretty blonde woman jog by, and thought of the last woman he had been with. Three years before he had gotten engaged to Cas. He could still remember the day they met.

He had been working on a banged-up old Toyota in his shop when a car crashed out front. Wasting no time, he had rushed out to find a small, powder-blue Volkswagen Beetle had been T-boned by a large red truck. The truck driver was fine-he was already climbing out of the vehicle. The smaller car, however, showed no sign of life. Dean hurried to the passenger side-the undamaged door-and yanked it open. A man in a long brown trench coat was slumped over the wheel. Dean crawled into the passenger seat and unbuckled the man.

"Hey. Hey! Are you alive?"

There was nothing. Snarling under his breath, he shoved his hands under the man's arms and struggled to pull him sideways. It was hard, but he eventually managed to lug him into the passenger side, and then onto the pavement. Setting him down, he took a moment to really look at him. He was handsome, with short dark hair, wearing a white shirt, blue tie, and light brown trench coat. If he were gay, he'd tap that in a second.

But he wasn't gay. Totally wasn't.

"Are you dead?"

The man grunted and tried to roll over, as if he were asleep. His head bumped onto the street, and he opened his eyes. His big, baby blue eyes. Dean swore in his head, then extended his hand.

"Here. C'mon, get up."

The man hesitantly extended his hand and allowed Dean to haul him up.

"Thank you," he said solemnly.

"No problem," Dean shrugged. "Are you okay?"

"I seem to be intact," he replied seriously.

Dean laughed. And laughed some more when he realized the man really meant that. "You talk strangely," he informed him.

"I do?" His eyebrows drew down in confusion. He looked absolutely adorable.

"Yeah. Now, do you want me to deal with this dick?" he asked, jerking a thumb at the truck driver.

* * *

"Dean. Dean!"

"What!" Dean exclaimed, pulled sharply from his reminiscing.

"It's dusk." The younger Winchester pointed out the window at the bruised sky. Dean clambered out of the Impala and grabbed his bag from the trunk. The brothers strode into the park and were soon sheltered by the large tree branches. It was at least ten degrees cooler under the trees, dark and chilly. A single male jogger passed by them, and that was the last human contact they had.

"So, how do we find one?" Dean asked, kicking at a rock.

Sam opened the book and skimmed over a few lines. "We should look for territorial markers. Scratches high up on tree trunks, holes in hillsides. Like...that one there." Sam pointed to the left, at a small, hidden hole carved into the side of a hill.

"Are you sure?" Dean peered at it. It could have been an animal den. But what were the odds of that in his life?

Together, they crept to the entrance and peered inside. A sticky-sweet odour emanated from the depths. Dean flicked on his torch and carefully stepped down. The steeply sloping ground was smooth. It was not natural, and it had been used frequently. The brothers had to crouch and place one foot after the other on stepping stones. After twenty metres or so, it leveled out and got bigger. A while more, and they came to a fork.

"Which way?" Dean mused, pointing his torchlight down each tunnel.


	6. Reunion

Dean went with his gut on this. It said to go right, so he led Sammy to the right. This tunnel was wide, and sloped at a gentle angle to the ground. They walked for a good ten minutes before they realized that it was getting lighter. Dean switched off his torch and peered closely at the walls. A glowing orange lichen coated the walls. It was letting off a faint honey scent as well. "Bees and honey," he muttered. Sam shushed him, and they went on without the light of the torch.

Their path finally leveled out and opened into a wide cavern. It too was lightly illuminated. Stalagmites and stalactites formed columns all around the cave. Suddenly, Sam yanked his brother back by the arm and slapped a hand over his mouth. The younger Winchester pointed up to the ceiling.

Clusters of insect-like beings were hanging from the cave roof. Once in a while, one would randomly flutter its wings or make a muted chittering noise. Since it was dark, he couldn't make out much, except the translucent wings and the occasional shimmer on a pincer or mandible. They looked...creepy.

Sam pointed ahead. Dean followed his finger and saw an opening in the rock. Together, they crept across the cave floor, flinching every time a rock skittered away from their feet. Once they made it to the cleft, Dean slipped through first. He had to wait for his brother to fit his ridiculously long body through. While waiting, he turned and examined the new cave. It was darker, none of the light-moss, and the stone was a lot more irregular. Large chunks of stone jutted from the walls and ground. Once Sam was through, they carefully maneuvered through the stone maze. None of the Psychevors were hanging from this ceiling.

Suddenly, Dean threw his arm out, stopping his brother from going forward.

"Shh!" he hissed. "Do you hear that?"

Listening, he picked up the sound of crying. Not sobbing, just silent weeping. It echoed around the cave, reverberating on the stones. He picked a random way and tried to track the source.

Hope blossomed in his chest. Could that be Cas? He was so close. Just a little bit further, and they would be together again. Dean hurried his steps, turning corner after corner. Finally, he spotted a stone cage. A dark form was slumped inside. He nearly fell over his own feet in his haste to reach the cage. Dropping to his knees before the weeping form, he whispered, "Cas?"

The sobs silenced, plunging the cavern into complete silence. The form moved a little, shifting away from the rough bars.

"Castiel?"

"Go away!"

Dean froze. That was definitely Cas' voice, but what...Why did he sound so angry?

"Cas, come on. We've got to get out of here."

"Leave me alone," he sobbed, curling in on himself. Dean grabbed onto the bars, pressing his face as far in as he could.

"Castiel!" he snarled. "Pull yourself together and tell me how to get you out of here!"

The other man rolled over to face him. Dean froze.

Castiel's imprisonment had taken a toll on him. His usually scruffy face had grown a full beard, and his hair hung in a matted mess down to his shoulders. He was still in the pyjama bottoms from three and a half years ago, but they were loose, dirty, and ripped. He could count every one of Cas' ribs.

"Leave me alone," Castiel repeated. His voice was hoarse from being unused.

"Cas-"

"I'm not falling for this again!"

"Falling for what? Baby, I-"

"Stop! Just stop it." He started crying again.

"Dean."

"What, Sam?" Dean snarled, turning to his younger brother. Sam crouched by him, holding the book open and shining his torch on the page.

"This says that Psychevors can use mimicry to lure their prey. They can look and even sound like people they know."

Swearing, Dean turned to his broken, caged lover. How the hell was he supposed to save his fiance if he thought Dean wasn't real?

**AN: The gift that keeps on giving, Lovely. And everyone else-please review! I want to know what y'all think. Thank you for reading!**


	7. Battle Stations

Dean and Sam examined every inch of that cage. They found a hatch at the top, but there seemed to be no way to open it. Swearing, Dean pounded on the top-

Castiel whimpered.

Leaping off the top, Dean crouched by the cage again and whispered reassuringly, "It's okay, Cas. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Please...leave me alone...or let me die..."

"Castiel!" Dean barked. "Don't you dare give up on me. I'm going to get you out of here. You just have to tell me how they put you in here."

The younger man turned to face the other and sniffled. "You're not my Dean."

But he sounded uncertain. Dean clung to that hope and leaned closer. "Cas, please. Help me save you."

Castiel frowned, but sat up, brushing hair away from his face. Finally, Dean had a clear view of Cas' brilliant blue eyes. They were red and puffy from so much crying, but still...beautiful.

"They...um, they use their claws to pry it up. I-I think they're really strong. And they rarely let me out."

"Crowbar," Dean called up to his brother. Sam unzipped the bag, retrieved the crowbar, and started trying to pry the hatch up. "Hey, Cas. Is there anything I can give you while we wait?"

Castiel was silent, but shifted closer to the bars. Dean wanted to reach forward, to touch him, but was afraid of scaring him away. "D...do you have anything to eat?" he asked quietly, scooting even closer. Digging frantically in his pockets, Dean managed to produce a bag of M'n'Ms. He held them in his open palm, just outside the bars. Cas stared at him for a long moment before reaching his hand through the bars. Dean let him touch the candy bag before grasping his hand tightly. Castiel squirmed, but gave little resistance when Dean tugged him close.

"I promise, I'm going to get you out of here. Then we're going to get married. We'll adopt a couple of brats, live in the country-"

"And grow old, watching the bees," Cas finished, smiling. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he sniffled. "Dean...I-I thought you'd never find me."

"What kind of thinking is that?" he scoffed. "I can find you anywhere."

"Took you long enough."

"You can punish me later. Now, eat while we break you out."

Cas smiled at him again, watching him scale the cage again while munching on candies. Sam had made a little progress; Dean grabbed the crowbar and took his turn. The hatch along must have weighed a ton. Sweating, swearing, the brothers combined their efforts, pressing down on the bar. They gave a small cheer when the hatch popped up. Almost there!

"Dean!"

The older Winchester leapt off the cage, hurrying to his panicked fiance. "What, Cas? You okay?" he demanded gruffly.

The other man shook his head, staring off into the distance. "Dean, they're waking up. They're coming! You have to get out of here-"

"No can do," Dean interrupted. "I'm not leaving without you."

"Then hide, please," Castiel begged. "They're going to come check on me, or feed, and then they'll leave."

"Nothing is going to feed on you," Dean vowed, gripping his gun. "Sam! Battle stations. It's go time."

The brothers ducked behind a stone outcropping just as a pair of Psychevors skittered into the cave.


	8. Escaping, Part One

The bee-like creatures skittered on six legs across the ground. There were only two of them, but they were huge. Dean took the safety off and leveled his gun at one of them.

"Wait," Sam whispered urgently.

"Wai-why?" the other brother hissed.

"Let them open the cage for us."

Reluctantly, he lowered his gun. The beasts climbed up the sides of the cage. Castiel cowered against the stone wall, whimpering. It took everything Dean had to not charge out there. The larger demon slipped the sharp tip of its claw under the edge of the hatch, and lifted it effortlessly. The Winchesters glanced at each other, then came out from behind the rock. Dean had his gun; Sam had one of the Moltave cocktails. They were ten feet from the stone cage when the demons looked up, right at them. Firing off a shot, Dean got one of them in the face. It glanced off its mandible, ricocheting into the darkness. Sam lit the cloth on the bottle and chucked it. It hit the other on the chest. It ignited, and the bug screeched, falling off of the cage. The other flinched away from the light, hissing angrily. Digging in the bag, Dean produced a can of Raid and a box of matches. Running forward, he met the demon halfway, raised the can and lit the spray. The Psychevor caught easily, going down with a shriek. The brothers looked at each other in disbelief. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

Dean stopped caring when Cas called his name. He dropped the empty can and scaled the bars. Once he was on the top, he reached his hand through the hole. Tentatively, Castiel stood and grabbed Dean's hand. They stayed like that for a moment, before they grew unsatisfied with that little contact. Using both of his arms, Dean lifted his considerably lighter fiancé from the cage. On their knees, they embraced, crushing each other.

"God, Cas," Dean sighed, closing his eyes. This was just a hug, but this moment-it was what he'd dreamed of for over three years.

Castiel was crying. He clenched his hands in Dean's leather jacket and sobbed uncontrollably. Rubbing Cas' bare back, Dean could feel every rib and bump in his spine. He pulled away long enough to take his jacket off and put it on the smaller man.

"C'mon, Cas. Let's go home."

Dean climbed down, then helped his boy down. Sam was waiting for them, looking awkward and unsure of what to do. Before they left the cave, Dean pulled Cas to the side, into his arms, for a kiss.

"I love you, Castiel."

"I love you too, Dean."

"When we get home-"

"Sex," Cas interrupted. Dean blinked.

"I was going to say 'to feed you and get you in a nice warm bed'."

"I want sex," he repeated stubbornly. Normally, Dean would _never _turn down sex, but Castiel was starving-literally-and needed a shower. And a shave, and a haircut. It was going to take a lot to get him back to his usual self.

"Let's compromise. You eat, then we'll have sex, then we'll sleep. Okay?"

Cas cracked a smile and nodded. "Um. Can we...shower together?"

Drawing a sharp breath, Dean shifted uncomfortably, aroused. He nodded, trying to hide his excitement. Linking their hands, they caught up to Sam. He was standing by the crack in the wall, looking pale.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked immediately. His brother simply pointed to the outer chamber. Slowly, Dean poked his head through and yanked it back quickly.

The Psychevors-all of them-were awake.


End file.
